Sing-along-a-strangerSo the Family von Blogg children were sitting on a mountain, avoiding the attentions of the very lonely goatherd who lived high on the neighbouring hill.

"Sigh," sighed Terracotta Sausage, "I am so depressed."

"I agree," agreed SlutEngineAGoGo, who was just as depressed. "If only Master Stranger were here."

"But we all know that he has returned to the monastery," Paradise Passage pouted petulantly. "Old Father Bloggit thought it best for all concerned."

"I know," said Ephemeral Gyrations. "But if Master Stranger were here now, then he would surely know how to cheer us up, wouldn't he, Sausage, dear? What was that very silly thing he did last time to put a smile on all our faces?"

"I remember with fondness," remembered Sausage with fondness, "he used to sing all about his favourite things!"

SlutEngineAGoGo clapped her hands in delight. "I remember too!" she remembered also. "I say, might it not be a jolly good idea to sing Master Stranger's song now? Perhaps that might make each one of us a little more merry!"

"Rather!" agreed Paradise Passage. But before any of the Family von Blogg children could start to sing, they heard a familiar voice singing a familiar song; and the familiar voice singing a familiar song was coming from a nearby hillside (but thankfully not the high one on which the lonely goatherd was living).

"Oh, Sausage!" cheered Ephemeral Gyrations, as she spotted the happy figure gallumphing over the hills to greet them. "Could it be? Could it really be he?"

"Oh yes, Ephie, yes, I think it is!" And, even though he was a boy, there were tears in Sausage's eyes, as the singer's voice grew louder and ever nearer. "It is Master Stranger, coming back to us, singing about all his favourite things:

Show tunes and muscles, blond Germans with tit-rings,
Bicep-straps, Clarins, and songs that I can't sing,
Mysterious potions that make me go zing,
These are a few of my favourite things.